From Spaghetti to Sushi to Country-Fried

Every Woman Wants the Perfect Ass.

Every woman wants the perfect ass. (Some men want the perfect ass, too.)

We all want the perfect legs. And then--that just leads into wanting the perfect hair, and skin and nails and eyes and teeth and boobs. Everyone wants something that is perfect. It will never end and it's unfortunate that we go to these extremes solely to make ourselves the pseudo "beautiful". The beautiful that magazines and fashion lead us to believe. There's something to say about advertising. Trust me, I grew up in the industry. The fashion industry, to boot.

I solemnly swore I would never Botox. I won't facelift. Even though those smile lines around my mouth tattooed me on the stroke of midnight of my 30th birthday, I just don't feel like I would ever imagine facing a knife or syringe. So be it as my oath here and now, the beauty of Diane Keaton will always give me the power to realize that age is beauty. However, one thing I will never sport is a haircut that falls short of my shoulders. Sorry, Momma--I think you are one of the most beautiful women on this earth that possesses the most beautiful skin in the world, but I don't think I could pull off your haircut. Seriously, Mom, I think when our family transcended from Italy---somewhere along the lines the Greek touched you and Aphrodite personally templated you from a graft of her skin. THAT'S how beautiful your face is. And I'm not kidding. Your hands are beautiful, too. I thought it was so weird how many people complimented you on your hands growing up. You should have had that shit insured.

This all gets back to the ass. I got you interested from the headline, so I'll jump back into the jeans, here. Women get the sags, guys. We get the dimples. And, no matter how many THOUSANDS of squats, lunges, and dreaded dead-lifts we do (because trust me, I have done HUNDREDS A DAY)--there's a chance those cute, little clefts aren't going away. Unless we quit eating pasta entirely. But, I'm going to break here--I refuse to quit eating pasta and bread. A) Because it's in my Italian blood. B) Because it's cheap and easy C) Because who wants a boring date when you go to an Italian restaurant and order a salad. Get. Real. Quitting pasta and/or bread is out of the equation. I'll take it into moderation, but  I WILL NEVER scuttle a carb completely. 

So, within my almost 6' stature, I have always had a skinny, little waist (thank you, God for that) but a bubbly butt. I'll blame it on the pasta, whatever-- but I have never really been able to make my ass work for the positive. It has ALWAYS drawn negative attention. In fact, I remember CLEARLY--I was at the 3 Rivers Coal Festival one year and a guy in my class told me that the guys have voted that I have the "ass off the class". I don't take that as much of a compliment but I guess it could be worse.

Now,  I have tried just about every brand of jeans your brain can filter. Without going the "Apple Bottom Jeans" route that are designed with women like me in mind, I just can't get past the bedazzle and the fact that the pockets are shaped like apples. (I'd rather not accentuate the goods, sorry.) But recently, I discovered a brand of jeans that slide on my legs, thighs, and butt as if golden-pink, sparkly angels sent from above were pulling them up for me. 

Citizens of Humanity jeans.

Every woman with my little issue should own a pair. It could be that I'm 5' 10" tall and they are just right. It could be that they hug me in all of the right places. It could be that it's wishful thinking and I see what I want but I don't give a damn. Nothing, and I mean NOTHING, makes me feel sexier in these jeans and a pair of wedge heels. They have redefined "bootylicious" to my personal taste.

Thanks CofH.

 

 

 

A little bit of this and a little bit of that.

I'm going to grab the bull by the horns here. Pristine, guerilla style marketing for....myself. While some people hate resumes and cover letters, interviews and meetings, primarily because they let their nerves chime in. But, like telling the bartender to fill the glass to the brim, I take full advantage of talking about myself because it's one particular situation where I can.  So folks, job hunting is a positive experience and I'm here to share with you some awesome jobs, companies and MOST importantly: the best, most insanely creative bosses I've ever had. These bosses hired me on experience and creativity mainly, but also on personality and my boldness to take advantage of life. "Hey, if this chic can be this brave, I bet she'll kick butt at my company!" Yes, sir. 

In 1999, I went to college at the American Academy of Art right, smack off of Michigan Avenue in Chicago and obtained a bachelor's degree in Multimedia Communications in 2003. A small-town Italian girl from West Virginia (whose father is a creative, fashion photographer living in Chicago) meets the Metra Train, El Train, CTA Buses, concrete jungle and traffic. Traffic so bad, I'd pull off the side of the 6-laned road and zen out solely to reconvene myself with getting back on and aim to where I was headed. Later on I bought a kelley-green, sparkly, 1970's Schwinn Bike, (awesome love story here) because I refused to pay $30 for parking when I could tie my bike anywhere in the city. Logical. 

I lived with my dad and step-mother: once, twice, three times a charm, until I finally moved into a 3-flat apartment full of guys above me who I shared a laundry room with, loved sports and "conveniently" left their laundry in the dryer because I "conveniently" folded it for them. My Italian blood kicked in, I guess. 

I worked at Apple computer right after college. I consider this my first "real" job because of where it 

led me. There was one other girl when I started selling the differences between MAC OS 9 (aka "Classic") and the "new" MAC OS 10. And the dial-pad iPods were brand new. Apple was new. The retail stores were scarce and Steve Jobs and Ron Johnson were just getting started. 

I picked this job up quickly. My sales were great. I loved my product. I loved my majority of the male co-workers (that had contests with me each day on who would win on saying something so disgusting, it would make the other actually think about it). I joined them at Houlihan's after work for happy hour sometimes. And learned a lot from them. 

About 1 year into that job, a new position at Apple Inc. opened called the "creative". It was a concept that Ron Johnson (then head of Apple Retail) had while washing his hair in the shower. The flagship store in Chicago was going to be one of the first stores to have "The Creative Kitchen" (which later changed to the "Creative Studio" to just "The Studio".) I asked my phenomenal boss about this job, he recommended me for it, I applied, I went through some wicked filters and was up against some of the most creative people on the planet. (I say this not to boast myself at all, but to express how creative these people actually were.) I was hired on as the "print/design" creative, along with a video, audio, software, and photography creative. Our job was to focus on customers who needed help being creative with a specific topic. Apple was smart. They had a main someone there to introduce. I was one of them.

I was sent to the "Mothership" for training. And like the show "The Real World", I was told to get on a plane to Cupertino, CA with the other "Creative" strangers at the time, hang out there for almost a month and be one of the first tester groups to go through this. 

I learned Apple. I learned the culture. I met Ron Johnson. I ate at Cafe Macs. I even turned around at lunch on the Apple campus one day and told Steve Jobs that one of those big, chocolate chip cookies looked amazing and I might get one. (Hey, he was right behind me in line...oops.) And got sick on sushi which floated by me in a little boat. 

I did this for almost 3 years until I had enough of the cold weather of Chicago (this is no joke) and asked Apple HR to please transfer me "somewhere warm". "I don't care if it's Florida. South Carolina. Georgia." "How about Texas?!" Says the HR. "Sure!" Says Cara. Now, I have never been to Texas, never even dreamed of Texas. But I was offered an interview in Dallas, got on a plane, interviewed, got the job (as a manager) looked for an apartment that same day. Flew back home, packed up my stuff, and U-hauled to Dallas. Just. Like. That. 

I missed being a Creative. There wasn't a Creative position opened in the warm weather and becoming a manager was a promotion, so I took it. Later to realize that being in a creative field was written in the books for me, I left the almost 5 years vested at Apple to persue my own Creative freelancing.

That was all awesome and everything, designing ads for fashion magazines across the world right in my own office, but I also loved people. So I wanted to get back into some sort of creative "environment". 

I went to Barnes and Noble everyday. 5 days a week. 8 hours a day. I applied for jobs. I went there because I had undivided attention and free Wi-Fi. I applied for ONLY jobs that tickled my fancy. And I had a way I applied for these jobs. My attitude was everything. I only applied at places I knew I would enjoy and had the experience they were looking for. 

In December of 2007, I received a call from Classic BMW. I applied for the Executive/Marketing Assistant a few weeks back. I went in for 3 interviews. I feel in adoration with my boss (not a weird adoration---but one that I respected and admired due to his creativity) and immediately told myself, "I HAVE TO WORK HERE." 

I got the call that I was the top pick for the job at the end of December and started January 1, 2008. The job was amazing. I got to be uber creative. T'was BMW for goodness sake! I got a BMW Z4, 2 seater-sports car, white, named it "White Lightening". I planned huge events. I aided my boss in creative advertising. Got to go to Dallas socialite parties and enter the oil and gas scene. I even raced BMW's on a racetrack (I say race when I mean "learn the cars for marketing reasons") being taught by a guy from Romania. Dealt with clients constantly who wanted us to advertise with them either in their magazine, golf tournament, professional sports team, etc. I got treated like a little princess. Gift baskets from clients, amazing bottles of wine, VIP at sports events and concerts and more. I loved that job. I loved it though more because of who I worked with. The people at that place were amazing. The jobs and bosses I had at Apple and Classic BMW made me the woman I am today and taught me about professionalism and creativity and not to be afraid to ever think outside the box and push the envelope just a little. 

During the time I lived in Dallas I met a pilot in Ocean City, Maryland when I was on a traditional family vacation. I feel in love. We had a long distance relationship and, yes, I ended up marrying him. His job flying as a reservist KC-135 at Tinker Air Force base is what led us up to OKC, but first pilot-training at Vance Air Force Base in Enid, OK. 

I drove from Enid to Dallas for the first 4 months of A) our marriage and B) our life in Enid, Oklahoma because I didn't want to leave the job at Classic BMW. It was over 300 miles of endless historical fiction audiobooks, prayer, and self evaluation. The drive was aging me and I had no choice but to tell my wonderful boss I had to leave and move on to the next phase of my life. He saw it coming. 

As hard as that was, I knew I'd be happy spending time with my husband and soul-searching for a new job. During this time I've been freelancing. A little creative writing for an awesome modern homebuilder in Oklahoma City called "Jeff Click Homes" . His style is awesome. He likes my writing. And it's working out. I've been column writing for a local magazine good old' Etown. And designing magazine ads for high-end resorts in Brazil. Time is well spent but I'm ready to lock in a fun-lovin', creative, knock-my-socks off job in Oklahoma City.   

So town, show me whatcha' got. I'm ready. 

-C

...and they're all made out of ticky tacky. Or, are they?

Upon reading this story: Please listen to the song by Malvina Reynolds

 

“Little boxes on the hillside,
Little boxes made of ticky tacky,
Little boxes on the hillside,
Little boxes all the same.
There's a green one and a pink one 
And a blue one and a yellow one,
And they're all made out of ticky tacky
And they all look just the same."

....or are they?

Upon entering the realm of what I call a brown, ornate oak cabinet nightmare, I had just about thrown in the towel. Every single new home model that we have visited had just about everything in common, "The Great American Dream Home of your Dreams!" I was done. Toast. Fried. Exhausted by driving through unwilted, stale, neighborhoods. Quarters that I almost gave into a few times out of the pure fact that I thought these "little boxes" were our only option. Where I will live in, smile, and physically become a Stepford Wife.

 

Just kidding. (That was a little brassy.) But, in all seriousness, both me AND my husband have gotten to the point where every house we look at, (new home models) have been exactly the same. Norm brown carpet, brown crown moldings, brown cabinets with all kinds of fancy-pants designs swirling about them. Granite countertops with the same shape. The same, after same, after same, after same.........we get in our car and move on to the next one. Almost naturally, the both of us slam the car door, look at one and other and sing, "Little boxes on the hill side, little boxes made of ticky tacky......."  And that's all we have to say to each other. It's to the point where we really don't even discuss what we do or don't like about the home we just "browsed". 

BUT....girls and boys.................I discovered........Jeff Click Homes.

One night I was tip typing away on my little Mac and happened to google up these 5 words: MODERN HOME BUILDERS OKLAHOMA CITY. My fascination has begun. 

Upon "Clicking", (his last name is Click....gah, that's perfect.) I was almost smashed into the depths of the couch cushion! I saw clean lines, and luminous color, and super-fly house layouts!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The website! OHHH THE WEBSITE! It was actually easy to use and didn't require hand-crafting an extra brain to figure it out. There were images of every room, of every angle (so there's no fooling), of every floor plan. My eyes were caught pin-pointedly on details of each house. Even the exteriors of the homes are contrasting to what we've seen. FINALLY! Wait a minute? Am I still in Oklahoma? 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It may have been late at night (or a random Sunday afternoon...I can't remember) but I still managed to email, Brody, the Community Manager. Almost instantaneously (or PDQ - pretty damn quick) Brody emailed me back with a time to meet and check out a home. THAT, Ladies and Gentlemen is EXCELLENT BUSINESS! Marketing done the correct way. Hallelujah! 

Brody isn't your average community manager. My husband and I were pleasantly surprised when we met him and it took a second to "Click" in that he didn't have puffy blonde hair and lipstick smeared on his teeth. And the model home didn't reek of Elizabeth Taylor's, White Diamonds. He didn't push, he didn't pull, he simply shook our hands, asked a few questions (about us) and let us check out the homes. He gave us some more options, talked awhile about gardens and sushi and welcomed our questions. AWESOME. 

Even with all of my writing experience and descriptive words, I'm not sure I'm going to be able to fully wordly describe how great these homes are. The concept, the marketing, the materials used. The design, the decor, the detail. All fall under the category: "exactly what we were looking for and didn't even know it".

Dear Jeff Click Homes: From the bottom of our little hearts. Thank you.

Dear Friends, Family, those in search of New Homes, those looking for ideas, those who need an inspirational marketing approach: I honestly ask that you to just take a look at this website.                    

Thank you LAAAWWD my days of ticky tacky are over.                       

Leave it to Cleaver.

 

Click here to have story read to you by Cara!      

Beyond the infatuation of hand-made drink coasters, "cabbage patch green" eggshell paint, hom e-grown basil, organic, extra-virgin olive oil, modern chaise lounge furniture, wacky flower vases (that may, or may not) look like aliens crafted them from Mars-rock, lies a girl who once grew up in a small town in West Virginia. Not that I was sheltered by any means of the sort, but I'm not sure how much my mother and grand-mother actually had an unhealthy zest for cooking and decorating as I do. I'm only saying this because those Italian women HAD to do it, it was some sort of sacrilege if they didn't. Admiration for things seem exhausted once forced upon thee.....sometimes. 

I went to a flea market in Texas once and I found some old aprons. By the way, flea market isn't a good term, it was more like a bazaar in India, except instead of seeing beautiful shalwar kameez clothing on the women, you might see, a bleach-blonde donning a t-shirt that reads: "Guns don't kill people, I kill people". This may give you a better idea? I don't know. But I have zero room to talk as I am from West Virginia and all is fair in love and war. Anyway, I found an apron much like the one June is wearing on the right. It's royal blue with red trimming, and two "oh-so-cute" pockets on each side. Serviceable compartments where I put my zucchini peeler and herb mincer. (Thanks, Aunt Carol! :-) Wonder what Junes' got in hers? Oh well. So, sometimes when I'm feeling Cleavery, I put that apron on and I turn on some Nat King Cole and drift myself back to the 50s. Neverminding that bad-ass iPod speaker set I have on top of my fridge that plays Nat King Cole, or the view of the 330i from my kitchen sink, or the note on the fridge reminding me I have a creative meeting at 2 on Thursday at Starbucks, I have the PERFECT kitchen for this whimsical daydream. The kitchen is so perfect, that I almost don't have to dream. I have a pull out PIE BOARD for Pete's sake! It's built right in to the original cabinetry that was fashioned here in the 1920s! And, on a good good day, if you find me floating around my kitchen with my magic wand of a spatula, on "Planet Pleasantville", just leave me alone. You know what they say about waking a sleepwalker. 

I have time right now to enjoy this obsession. I didn't know that I even had it in me to create my very own window treatments. I mean, yeah, I cheated and sewed them up with stitch-witchery, but I truly say it does count considering the fact that I had to get out my calculator and ruler and scientifically equate the fabric and windows. And they don't even look half-bad! I mean I figured they'd look like Einstein on crack created them, but really, they're perfect! 

I also enjoy cooking and can sous-chef up almost anything you ask. My favorite is Mediterranean, though. I'm still mastering the art of Southern cooking and baking. I swear, you have to be born into this shit.) One time, I added a whole tablespoon of baking soda to my home-made biscuits (instead of a teaspoon) and when my husband tasted them, I swear the bite directly projectiled from his mouth so fast, there's a hole in the wall where the salty dough mass hit! Poor guy, he's gotta be my guinea pig, but I don't hear many complaints in the department other than my chocolate chip cookies. I can't get them right. I swear its the OVEN! (Please refer HERE for a short history lesson on this.) But I'm getting better. I made a Genoise cake with berry sauce a few nights ago that came out perfect. I didn't eat ANY of it, I just liked staring at it. 

So, I'll let you in on my domestic Cleaver festivities soon. It's only been about a month, many, MANY more to come. I think I'll go get into rearranging some furniture, or maybe even go make a cake, NOT to eat it.......just so I can stare directly into it's eyes.

By the way, my dog thinks I'm nuts. 

 

Spanx you, Spanx you very much.

PSPNX1-4402734enh500

Behind every great woman--there's a pair of Spanx. And please, don't even try to challenge it.

Unless, that is, if you have the body of Heidi Klum in which God has personally, perfectly chiseled her cheeseburger eating self (yes, she admits to her guilty pleasure of eating whatever she wants--cheeseburgers included. WTF?!) Even after having 23 beautiful children, it seems like the SPANX company, actually molded Heidi's body for their product.

Anyway, the low down and skinny (yep, pun intended): I have a formal event to go to. It's for Jonathan's graduation from Officer Training School (Air Force Dining Out they call it...) I guess I got fooled by the whole 'mess dress' rigmarole? But, I haven't been to "this" formal of an event since the corporate Christmas party of 2002 when I was with Household Finance. At which by the end of that night, I ended up in my PINK sweatpants and my once 'did' hair lookin' like an all out dogs-breakfast. So it's been a while. You'd think that working for BMW I'd get to go to these brown-nosing sort of things every now and again--and truth is, I do get invited. I just politely decline all of the black-tie ones because I really don't want to go out and re-hash Christmas party phenomenons. I have a brand to promote, here.

It took me a good 3 weekends of dedicating my 'plenty-of-spare-time' and 'lack-there-of' of money to finding the perfect gown. My honey hasn't seen me in 3 months, so I'd like to make sure I look absolutely Utopian. I tried on a nice 40 dresses until I found the perfect one (last one to boot) at Off Saks 5th Ave. I wear a size 6 but the dress is a size 4 so I have squeezed every pinch and movable part into this dress until the breath of me has become an almost violent asthma attack in itself. And then...............

...................I discovered SPANX. It was 3am (and I must be lonely) but an infomercial was on and thus sparked the interest in this miracle product.

How bad could it be, right? EFFIN' WRONG. I get to the store. Ya gotta go to a high-end department store to buy these beasts where they will run you a nice $75-$100 and I grab about 3 different styles. Bamboozled by the bright red hosiery packaging complete with cute little cartoon women on the front--they try to make you feel flirty and giddy--I brought them into the fitting room and closed the door.

I opened the first package and pulled out the apparatus. Apparatus is an understatement. "You have GOT to be kidding me?!" I said out loud. "I think they messed up here--this is just about the size of my cabbage patchs' clothing." Again, said out loud. So I pulled out the other two. Same deal. Smaller than a newborns fresh outfit out the hospital. I knew they would stretch but damn. I stuck my foot in the tiny holes and tugged. And tugged. And tugged. And tugged to the point where I was actually jumping higher than MJ slammin' dunk at a Bulls game, just to get the damn thing on. By the time I think I have it pulled all the way up, the crotch is still at my knees and I've realized that I have pretty much lost all feeling in my legs. But, minus all of that---I looked GOOD. WOW! I mean NO underwear lines. No jiggly things. "All be stricken over, I DO LOOK LIKE HEIDI KLUM'S BODY!" SOLD!!!!

Well, not quite. I didn't buy them at the department store---and hell no I'm not paying $92 for one. So I went to an outlet and scored SPANX for $21. Ask me how to shop, I'll teach you. I'm a pro. But I did buy them and now my dress actually fits like a size 4 is supposed to. Nuthin' spillin' out or unsightly undie lines. OH! And guys---don't think you've gotten off the hook with this one, SPANX makes "SPANX for MEN" now. I guess men are getting self-conscious of their "MOOBS" lately. It's ok, Sugar....I won't tell. Go try some on. ;-)

-CJ

12 electric stoves, 12 laminate floors, 12 dingy carpets, 12 overpainted walls.

Picture 3

12.
That is how many times, within the past 9 years that I have moved. Almost twice a year for the past 6 years. And 3 times within the past 2, (locally). I'm getting fried like the pasta sauce forever burnt on my electric stove. You can't get that crap out.

This is why I'm going to tell you how wrapped up I am with apartment living. Let's talk first about this hot mess of a coil contraption that is my electric stove. I grew up in a family of Italians, we Colasessano women were bred to cook, eat, and entertain company. There was no such thing as an electric stove, only blue flames of glory to boil our pasta! Little did I know at the age of 19 upon my first move, that the next 10 years were going to consist of the most unevenly cooked chicken ever.

Through my 12 electric stoves, my current one is the worst. I noticed that my chicken is placed evenly in the pan, yet burns like hell on the left side of the pan, and is still cold as the dickens on the right side of the pan.

I've had to investigate.

Seems that my kitchen laminate floor (ughh LAMINATE) is uneven. Therefore my stove is uneven, which, unknown to palpable physics, causes the coils to only heat on one side. But, because I live in an apartment and renting it from some rip-off leasing company, I can't get a new one.

I hate my stove. There, I said it.

Next up, is the laminate flooring in my kitchen. I can swiffer, scrub, q-tip and detail every corner of the cheap garbage and it still looks like mice built an active city around the crown moldings. It's gross, I'm a clean person, but there is nothing I can do about it.

Speaking of floors. The carpet. I think it should be a law that once one moves into a new apartment, the carpet be replaced. I had to ask to have my carpet cleaned twice to remove 'hairs' from the floor. Cringe.

The walls. Have been painted over more times than a transvestite on duty. The paint is so corroded on the floor crown moldings that it has gathered every speck of dust and dirt that has fallen from the ether. I have cloroxed until my hands singed away. Still, no fruit of my labor.

You probably think I'm a complainer. But please understand that I'm just ready for my own 'nest'. Not someone else's nasty leavins'. All I want is a gas stove and a back yard so I can start living my life and inviting people over. I don't need a house the size of the Taj Mahal, just a gas stove and some nice cooking equipment. That makes me happy.
=)

Quote of the Month: Jeremy Dennis

Unicorn-puzzle-703227

Jeremy4:38
we have softball tonight
you know what im gonna do?

Cara Audia l Classic BMW 4:38
plaaaay softball!

Jeremy4:39
yea....
I’m going to hit one over mermaid mountain and ride my unicorn all the way around the rainbow line so that I can gallop upon the plate of good tidings and score a thunderous lightning bolt of winnings for the home team!

Dating a pilot: All Systems are GO!

GO!

I constitute myself as a fairly independent dame. I never really cared if anyone 'went with me'. I have, by myself, thoroughly mastered the art of carrying 14 bags of groceries (complete with a gallon of milk and tons of frozen meat) up 7 flights of stairs. I can operate a concrete drill, with bits and mollies, and hang a half-way decent cabinet above the toilet. I have ridden the "L" train in Chicago at 3am chock full of 'pub leftovers' then walked 3 blocks through dark alleys to get home. I do suck with fixing cars though....luckily I work for BMW.
Phhhew.

This is why dating a pilot was written in the books for me. It's just the right amount of harmonious balance between still being sovereign and finally letting a man be my hero.

When Jonathan came into my life he definitely spoiled me. I actually really enjoy having a man around. I almost feel like acting like a damsel in distress on purpose so he can protect me from all of the world and the bad guys. I have someone to help carry my groceries, assemble the most ridiculous IKEA furniture, and go yell at the management at my apartment complex are being complete tools to me. I'm getting used to this and I like it.

But, he's a pilot. And pilots are gone a lot. I think it's pretty tough for about 90% of women to have their husbands/boyfriends/fiances just get up and go at a moments notice. It's tough to know exactly how long they will be gone, where they are even going, and JUST when you get their 'route' down pat, it changes. Thanks.

I think I'm one of those women who can handle it. However, there are a few things that I regard with distaste.  When he's gone, for example, I do not enjoy the fact that everywhere I go I see a 'couple' kissing and it makes me miss him, or when I have something exciting going on in my life, I can't count on him being there. There are some days and nights that I miss him so much I feel like I can't handle it and it's really tough on the both of us. But the excitement of getting to see him when he gets back makes up for all that was lost. I can't wait to hug him and even though its been almost 2 years this summer, I still get butterflies in my belly when he's back! To me, it's all worth the feeling of being in love for the first time, over and over again.

My daddy traveled a lot growing up and he still does. He was and still is the BEST father ever. He never ignored my brother and I and was always there when we needed him. This is a HUGE advantage in my situation because I'm used to this lifestyle. I'm used to having someone gone, but then come back.

Here's a few tips that I've learned:
1. Yes, dating a pilot is a lot of hard work. On both ends you have to have trust. You have to know that he'll be back.
2. He has to understand your point of view too. Both of you have to communicate. And you can't give up simply because of the fact that you're not like all of the other 'normal' couples you know.
3. Bake him cookies or make his favorite meal the night he gets back.
4. Plan something special just the two of you for the time he will be around. Then call friends and do something with them together later, or just let him hang with his best buddy.
5. Let him have his time with his family. You are NOT the only person in his life that he loves so let him cherish alone time with his Momma.
6. Don't call him unless you KNOW he's awake. Pilots don't get much 'good' rest. Most of the time, they sleep on a recliner with a 'universal' blanket used by the prior-pilot sleeping in that chair. (This one was tough for me and still in the learning process)
7. Take care of any little details, within reason, for him that he can't do while he's on the road, i.e. run to the post office, pay a bill, wash his clothes)
8. Try not to talk about work/planes/flying unless he brings it up first. Just because he duties on and off doesn't mean he still isn't in the environment.
9. You are with him for a reason and you love him. You are good at taking care of yourself so get back to the roots of being independent again.
10. Take care of him, period.


So, all systems are GO for me. I can handle this even though it's hard at times. Though you get spoiled when he comes home, it's all the more to enjoy the time to yourself and go decorate your place or something.....

Oh yeah -  www.flightaware.com is the bees knees!  ;-)

4 Steps to being, Shiny, Happy and all 'Finger-Painty'.

Smiley

You ever just wake up in the morning and just want everything to be all happy and shiny and all finger-painty and full of positive intent? You want everything to go perfect without a flaw in your day. Or, at large, the most distracting thing that could pinch your happy nerve would mayyyybe be something like the lady at ChicK-fil-A, forgetting to give you that good Polynesian sauce that you like.

I like days like that. If there is one thing that I'm learning about being a grown woman (can I call myself that?) is that we all have complete control over what our lives for will entail for that day. Still trying to get into that channel, but I think maybe I have begun to figure it out..........slowly.

Please, I am by far, no trained professional or anything remotely to the sort, but if these four simple steps are working for me, then why not share them with you?

1. Realizing what makes ourselves happy is step one.
No, no no. It's not that bottle of Jack sittin' up on the counter. Although, it sounds nice, it is only a temporary means of nullification. You're gonna want to go for the expensive bottle of wine instead. More than likely, you're going to have less of a massive headache when you wake up from your alcohol induced coma...............I'm kidding.  In all seriousness, figure out what puts a smile on your face. It could be as simple as hearing a friend's voice, making a trip to church, going outside and getting some air, doing something good for someone else, or eating a Jell-o Pudding snack. Whatever. Figure it out.

2. Acting upon it is step two.
So you've had a minute to think about it. NOW GO DO IT! You will learn that procrastination will diminish once you file yourself under the "content and happy" folder. Right there, you are killing two spiders with one stone. (I don't like to kill birds, who wants to kill a bird?) We all like making ourselves happy so this step should come easy to you and in the long run you'll be so used to implementing your happiness, that the stuff that ya just 'don't wanna do'....well, you'll start to notice, it's actually getting done! Wow!

3. Noticing that you are smiling more often is step three.
Now you are at that point where you are comprehending your glee, all of this golden merriment should come naturally to you. You will notice that things will start to pay forward and one little smile or small conversation from you can make someone else's whole entire week. For example, I was on my daily Starbucks kick yesterday and an elderly man next to me at the 'fixin's station' was using the Half & Half. He looked at me and said "Am I hogging the milk, Honey?" and I said "No, if you were, I would have just bit your hand." He laughed....he actually laughed a lot. To be quite honest, I didn't really think I was that funny. But, he thanked me for putting a smile on his face that early in the morning. Right there, it came into play that I was smiling too.

4. Keeping it up, even on those 'not so golden' days is step four.
It might be rainy out. You might have screwed up at work. You could have possibly had a fender bender on the way to the grocery store. Or you could just feel like a complete loser for the day. Well, you know what, buddy? Those typical glooms are all the reason to take a look at everything that IS right in your life.....automatically you are looking for something happy anyway. It's the way our sneaky little minds function. So on these days, stop for just a minute....go outside if you have to, take a deep breath and move the heck on. Utilize what we've just talked about and things will start to pick up that day.

---Now that I have spoken my peace, we can try and make this world a happier place one person at a time. You have complete control over your day from the moment you wake up. Tell yourself "Today is going to be a good, productive day and there is nothing that will stop me."

The 'Crate and Barrel' uncomfortableness.

Cambridge Baker w:Rack

Really, that's all I wanted.

Wednesday, January 21. Having a dinner for friends on Saturday. Making my famous stuffed shells, I wanted this baking dish above to display them in. Went to Crate and Barrel.----There are 2 entrances, walked through the back.Looked at the wine glasses, little dishes and got to my rack, there was one left.

All of a sudden the workers looked at me, it went like this:

C&B - "Ma'am what are you doing in our store?"
Me - "Well, I'm buying a baking dish and some other goodies."
C&B - "But we're closed!"
Me - "Your door was open!"
C&B - "Well, we've been doing inventory today!"
Me - "Ok, I'll leave"
C&B - "No, it's ok you can still shop."
Me - "Well, do you have any registers opened?
C&B "Well, no"
Me - "Well, what do you intend me to do then, take this 9"x13" baking dish and run for the 'doh'!?"
Me - "Ok, I'll leave."

On writing.

Picture 1

Here's the deal, though. I didn't go to school for journalism. I can't imagine that I know how to compose a paragraph correctly, even. I'm pretty sure I use "quotation marks" around too many words. I get a little too descriptive with my situations. And I don't know how writers even begin to make a living.

One thing I do know is that people love my stories.

My Senior year in high school, I received Mrs. Martin's "Most Outstanding English Student" award. I'm positively sure it was because of a book called "My Antonia". The year's grade consisted on this book and I had to give a presentation on it.

I got an A. I got up in front of my public school high school classroom, along with my other team-mates ( this was a small group project) and they were counting on me. They were counting on me because I was the "Goody Good" Catholic School girl who always studied and read her books for book reports or she got slapped on the hands with a ruler by a Nun. So of COURSE I was the one who read the book, "Let Cara do the talking, she read it!"

I didn't read one, single page.

But before I could break the news that, I along with the rest of the classroom, didn't even know if Antonia was a girl or a place, I got up and started speaking. I bull-shat. And it came naturally.

I took into consideration the book cover picture, and thoughts quickly came to my mind like hunger in a stomach. Thinking to myself, "Ok, she's a girl, she's boring. She wears her hair in pig-tail braids and she's standing on what looks like a wheat field." My mouth opens and spills out like "Antonia" is my best friend and that I wrote the damn book.

I don't know how I did it. But I did. I got the group an A. I made Mrs. Martin actually laugh during the presentation. And she even agreed to put the grades on a curve because everyone else failed! Oh wow I saved the day.

I believe that it all began there. I realized that 1. Lying is bad. So don't lie, because that was a HUGE one. 2. You're a good story-teller, Cara. If you can make Mrs. Martin crack a smile imagine what else you can do! And 3. Start documenting your life run-in's just because it's fun. So in 2006 I decided to see what this whole blog business is. I hate the word blog, as you may know, so they are mini-stories. None of them are lies, I promise.

From there I had friends tell me to keep writing. And when I went through a dry-spell I literally got a text message from a friend who said he was on "pins and needles, here" because I hadn't written a story in a couple of months. A few of my friend even have it subscribed so when I write a new story, it automatically sends an email to let them know. Gah, that's clever. And for the most important part of it, Jonathan and I went to see Marley and Me on Christmas Day. The main character is a 'columnist' I don't really know what that is, but as the movie went on a whisper in my head said that I might be good at that, what with all of my stories and all. As suggested by Jonathan a few days ago, that I would be 'excellent' as a columnist. But, for right now I'll stick with my TRUE LIFE stories and my job at Classic BMW.

I'll keep writing more now, just because I know someone's out there reading it.

My Love Story.

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My Love Story: A short story by Cara.


Every year since I was about 5 my family went (and still goes) to Ocean City, MD on vacation. My best friend Holly went with me every year and since she and I haven't been since we were 17 (25 going on 26 at the time) we thought we would join in the fun for the summer. So we did. I flew direct to Baltimore and Holly picked me up a the airport and we drove another 3 hours, over the Bay Bridge and rolled the windows down so we could smell the salt in the air, even though it was about 3am.

This is the first year we've been to OC and have actually been old enough to drive on our own, go have a drink at a bar, and go to bed at wee hours in the morning without getting in trouble by Mom Radar.

On a Tuesday night Mom asked if Holly and I wanted to join the 'adults' (as they are still called because, technically we are still children since the last experience at the beach, we really were just kids) to a place called Fagers Island. Mom said "Oh come on it's fun, just come for a little while, there's a DJ and we can all dance!" Yeah, that's what I wanted to do. Dance with my Mom and her friends at some old folks beach bar in Maryland. My Mom is fun, and it's all in good fun, she doesn't really drink she just likes to dance and obviously the rest of the crew did too.

Holly and I said no and decided to head down to the boardwalk instead. We wanted to kill some of those Thrashers Fries and Vinegar, you can't find them anywhere else ya know? As we are on our way, I looked to my right and saw Fagers Island.....for some reason I felt a little hurt in my stomach because I told my Mom no and owed it to her since it was vacation. I needed to be with her and everyone else on the trip. I looked at Holly and asked her if she wouldn't mind turning around so we can just stop in and say hi.

The place was kinda cool. It was an indoor/outdoor deal. Palm trees, sand for a dance floor, a DJ that was clearly Mom's age playing oldies like "She's a Brick-House" and "Boogie Shoes" and before we knew it Holly and I had a beer in our hands and we were enjoying everyone and everything.

A bit later we finally made it to the dance floor with Mom and her 'girlfriends' because I just HAD to go out there and dance to this David Bowie song and that's when it all started.

Were all dancing around in a circle and I notice a group of guys kinda making their way towards ours. To be honest, I wasn't thinking twice, there were a ton of people dancing. But the guys confused Holly and I, they were dancing with Mom, Mindy, and JoAnn. "Holly that is HILARIOUS who are these guys they look like fun!" -were the exact words out of my big mouth while the music was blowing.

One guy started dancing with me, but I didn't get a good look at him I just remember he had "two left feet" and if he's going to dance with me then he needs to follow my flow.

I turn around: Oh, he's kinda cute? Oh, hes REALLY cute, Wow. I looked back at Mom and Holly and my Mom does this thing with her eyebrows that kinda shouts "get it, or go for it"....So I turned around and without small talk kept dancing with this really handsome guy. He was fun, I was at the beach, I'm single and having a great time. Nothing more.

The music got horrible and we decided to quit dancing so he walked me to the bar and bought me a drink. Holly, everyone else, is out of site for a while and Mr. Handsome opens his mouth. Tells me his name is "Jonathan". My eyes squinted and his voice sounded so familiar, this "Southern drawl" that I've been reacquainting myself with for the past 3 months makes me immediately ask him (and melt to the floor, by the way) "WHERE are you FROM!?" "Well, I'm originally from Texas, but I am here for the summer flying banner planes." Wow. He's a pilot. For some reason that just made me even more into this stranger that I just met. "I'm from Texas, well I live there now, in Addison near Dallas!" ........ Let's keep talking.

So he lives here for the summer, to fly these planes. He's done in September. Going back to Arkansas where he went to school and is on leave from a job as the pilot for the University's president. He said he had applied for jobs in Addison (the SAME town I live in) a few times. Ok, reality hits me. I'm talking to this pilot, who is from Texas, where I just happen to 'end up recently' in the travels of my life. Coincidence? Cara, don't be stupid.

Jonathan and I talked all night on the beach, Holly left, Mom left everyone is gone and it's just us two. Attempting to get to know each other for what reason, I still don't know. Something about this guy is making me feel like a 16 year old girl before prom. I haven't felt like this well, in forever. We talk that whole week, we text message each other all day while he's flying the plane over the beach and I'm laying in the sun watching him fly over. We spend the chilly evenings looking at the stars in the back of his truck. And we talk about more than I have ever released to any human being and I couldn't figure out why. I realized I really like him.

My trip lasted a week and I had to leave. I was sick to my stomach to say goodbye to Jonathan, my perfect stranger but I knew his life had to go on, and so did mine. Thousands of miles I fly back to Texas, yet Jonathan is still keeping me company by his phone calls and text messages in the Baltimore airport.....These phone calls and text messages didn't stop. I tried to play hard to get because I was taught the boy needs to come to you, but my "hard to get" turned to "I'll be here anytime you need me". And that was my word.

Months went by and Jonathan and I talked almost everyday. It was actually kind of weird when I didn't talk to him for a day and I remember every time my phone rang and I saw his name on the ID, I felt like that 16yr old-girl again. Every. Time. I liked Jonathan. A lot. He is an amazing person with an heart the size of Texas, a handsome face, a country boy, and one of the first 'real men' I can say that I have ever had a relationship with.

Time went on and I realized that I wasn't lonely in Texas, I had Jonathan. Even though he was in Arkansas 5 hours away. He invited me to visit a few times so we could at least see each other. I think both of us knew we needed this because it would keep our 'friendship' alive.

My friends all thought I was crazy. I wouldn't look at another guy. I refused to go out on dates with other people. I wouldn't even give any other man an opportunity and I didn't care. I had Jonathan, unofficially....we had 'each other'.
Something kept telling me that I need to stick with Jonathan no matter what happens and what he goes through and where he moves. Just stick with this person. So I said a lot of prayers for him and his path of doing what's best for him. Honestly and truly not for selfish reasons for me as hard as that was.

Jonathan gave up his job graciously for his friend in Arkansas so that he would have an opportunity and Jonathan gave me news that he was accepting a job in Addison. In Addison. Where I live. I didn't ask the Lord for this but I did ask that whatever He did for Jonathan, be if for benefit. I think He was seeing my side a little since He sent him closer to me. At this point, I'm ecstatic.

So here we are today. Claiming the title of "boyfriend and girlfriend" for over 10 months now, not counting the 10 months he lived in Arkansas. I could not be happier. Having him around has been the best, most refreshing feeling. I love him. He supports my thoughts, he makes me laugh, and even though neither of us are perfect, we have a great relationship that has grown because we've found out how to make it that way. I love his family and his friends, and I love the fact that he is mine, he eats my food, he deals with my imperfections and everything else.

Who would have thought that 2nd drive by to go see my Mom in a place in Ocean City, MD, thousands of miles away from Texas, I would end up with someone so wonderful.

                                                                                                                        -Cara, 2009

That's it. I've lost my faith in humanity.

"That's it. I want off this ride.
I'm turning in my membership card for humanity." -Unknown

Picture 3

Goodness. I wake up in my apartment. I walk down the stairs. I open up my blinds and let the morning sun stream in. I look outside and see the the little bees working in the building across from my apartment. I hear the flippin' leaf blowers going at it. I pour my coffee. I sit down on my chocolate brown couch. I turn on channel 8 news. I put my fleece blanket over my lap even though it's still 76 in Dallas. I take my MacBook Pro and open it to www.msn.com. The first thing I read is that Citigroup will cut another 53,000 employees.
Oh that's great.

Then, I get to work. I look at craistlist.com and another co-worker and I see that you now have to pay $25 per listing in Craigslist to find a job. (I'm not looking, we were just posting an ad for someone in another department...yes, there are people out there still hiring.)

WTF? Is this is how we say "Good Morning, America!"? > We're firing everyone and guess what? YOU HAVE TO PAY TO FIND A JOB!

It took me writing this story to realize:

Writers Block

I have never experienced writers block for as long as I have been alive. Even when I was a kid I could pick up a magic marker and write down something creative. Or draw something colorful. I can't even draw something right now. I'm really wondering what this is all about. Is it the lack there of of coffee that I haven't consumed in almost a month....(ok, a few sips here and there)? That wacky migraine that I got about a month ago that caused me to see blind spots for like 20 minutes, scaring the absolute S#IT out of me thinking I was having a retinal detachment? Is it that I'm not used to my butt being in an office all day and usually I wrote my best stories at a coffee shop or the second I woke up in the morning while still under my covers and in my PJ's? (I know, very stereotypical of me...in fact I'm going to share this with you:

Meg Griffin [typing on laptop]: Don't mind me, you guys. I'm just writing a letter to my boyfriend. [types aloud] "Dear My Boyfriend, thank you for making out with me recently on purpose. That was cool. Those flowers that you totally sent me were really pretty. Just like you said I am. Love, Meg."
Chris Griffin: Meg, you are so full of crap. You're like those people who sit in Starbucks and publicly write on their laptops.
[cut to Starbucks, where two men are typing on laptops]
Man 1: Hey, gettin' some writing done there, buddy?
Man 2: Yeah, settin' up in public so everybody can watch me type my big screenplay.
Man 1: Me too. All real writers need to be seen writing, otherwise, what's the point, right?
Man 2: You should totally write that down.
Man 1: Okay. Will you watch me?

I agree, it inflames the piss out of me to walk in Starbucks and see people with their EMO hats on and writing on their little Macs at Starbucks. To be quite honest, I think it was that massive addiction to their burnt caffeine that got me in the mood. Having that caffeine taken away from me is like having my best friend move away. Oh yeah, that happened too.

In all honesty, I blame it on my lifestyle right now. I just moved into my "Studio yet Loft" apartment. It's small, I can't put CRAP anywhere but it's affordable and in a nice area. Moving is stressful. I hate cardboard boxes with a maximum passion, and I thank my Mother for doing the dirty-work for me. God bless her and her wonderful soul, but she did ask 3,871 questions about knick-knacks and where they need to go. Who in this world has EVER thought of having an 'OVER THE DOOR' iron and ironing table holder. I'll tell ya: Donna Wells, Female, Age: 51 also goes by "Ma" or "Mom-cat". Might I mention that we went to Bed, Bath and Beyond at 11:15pm on a Friday night to find that item.

I'm press-ganging myself to get my flab back to the gym. (Ok, flab is a bit excessive.) I had a personal trainer, Tom, who I still have 4 sessions with but I quit going due to passing out and dropping weights one day (which, too, scared the S#IT out of me) and that was timed perfectly with my migraines. It has left the taste of acid in my mouth and I'm scared I'm going to get one of those migraines again if I go. I know, it's all in my head.... =( So, instead I joined the local gym, MEMBERSHIP: $10.00 a year! A YEAR PEOPLE. Step two to getting back on track.

Step three, Financials crashed. Looks like Wal street might be having plenty of blinding migraines. This is also another stress factor. SAVE YOUR FLIPPIN' MONEY, CARA. Since I have completely exhausted my savings account and somewhat sold my soul to Post Addison Properties, I have to really watch my funds. I don't make a whole heck of a lot and I need to learn to put it away more. Done and done. Jonathan and I have been out to eat possibly ONCE within the past two weeks, and we enjoy cooking together while the economy is in the crock-pot. I like that. =)

*************************Slowly realizing things are turning up roses?*******************************

E_mainvisual2

My job isn't as stressful as it was in late August and September. Maybe it is, but I have learned to stop waking up in the mornings worried about if the package got there on time. < That = Not healthy. Not healthy at all. But, I like my job and in order to keep liking it, I have to learn that it can NOT consume me and my free time. My desk is neat but don't look underneath it, you might confuse it with "Narnia" or the "Land of OZ". (see picture to your right = under my desk world). Yeah, I'll get to that one day.

Well, I think that I have fixed my block. I think that I might have plenty more to talk about here in a couple of days. For those of you who read my stories (know that I don't call it a blog) will bounce in jubilation and can get off of 'pins and needles'.

Thanks, writers block. Thanks.

As promised:

Picture 2

As promised.
The 2nd best photographer in the world.

Really??

Gas Prices

No shiz.
Does it really take an expert to figure that out?
This is what I read first thing I got in this morning.
It is Tuesday, June 24 2008 at 3:45pm.
Gas prices are at an all time high at $4.21/gallon for Premium Gas.
Let's see how much higher they will go until I have to start selling my soul to get to work.

Contradicting?

Today, I was enjoying to the "Frank Sinatra" station on Pandora.com and noticed these songs playing back to back.
Were they having a personal argument right before my eyes and ears?

Is the Gentleman the Dope or is the Lady A Tramp?
Looks to me like Tony might win that one...look at that stare he's got on Margaret....

Picture 4

Quote of the Week l June 15, 2008

Quote of the Week  l  June 15, 2008

"Oh honey, I'm going to have to get down there and Murphy's Oil those crown moldings!"

-My Mother in lieu of my corners in my apartment.  

MurphysOilSoap

I don't really wanna slow down?

BMWLOGOC2

This past week, I had the opportunity to have my Volkswagen eat it. Long story short, it over heated. Some fan that cools the car down completely dissipated. I don't know? I drove the whole way to Arkansas and back with that light irking the crap out of me. But I'm still alive and kickin' on God's green earth.

I work for BMW. I have been for the past almost 3 months. And it's time. I don't like to overstep my boundaries anywhere and I was willing to take Black Majic (Jetta) to Volkswagen, but I thought I would see if the Service Manager could at least check the light to see what the hot mess was.

Again, long story short, a part of the VW dissolved and it was a big deal.

I know BMW's are like the shizz. I've heard it all my life yet I've never driven one. (I have ridden in them, plenty, but that does not count). I was just taking everyone's word to heart. Particularly when I am creating billboards and ad's and stuff for the dealership.

Jon let me mooch the 328i, aka, "White Storm" (you oughtta know by now, I name EVERYTHING). I gotta tell you, I was as nervous as my Mother gets when she hears, (well....everything), as soon as I sat my tan toosh on that tan leather. Yes, yes, the interior was to keel over for with all it's buttons and lights and automated EVERYTHING, but I couldn't WAIT to get the pedal to the floor to see how fast this thing could go and how speedy it could get there!

With my foot on the floor, hands white knuckling the steering wheel, rubber burning South on the Tollway, and my eyes utterly unbolted from their sockets on the lookout for the "FIVE-OH", the only thing I could think about was how much fun I was having. I swear I had a grin from ear to ear and I'm sure I weirdly had all the hallmarks of "The Joker"...but the one played by Jack Nicholson in Batman. Yep, I'm pretty sure I looked like him.

I'm not here to sell you a BMW, and I was just fine driving the Jetta for the next few years. But, BUT in order for you to understand my 'joie de vivre' you MUST go and test drive one at least ONCE in your life. It does not compare to anything I have ever slapped my foot on. Some may argue, but I am allowed to state my opinion and I'm sure that when I learn more about how these pretty little engines work, I'll be able to snap right back at you with my defense.

I got the Jetta back 2 days ago (sigh) and as I was on I-75 on a way to a friends, the transmission decided to joke with me thus leading me to drive under 20 miles per hour back home. Oh darn. I have to have that thing in the shop again? While it's being looked at for more major issues, I'm scootin' around in the BMW Z4 with the top down.

That's it I'm getting the Z4 this week (ok maybe next week).

Before I leave you with your ambition to go out to Classic BMW in Plano, TX and test drive a Beamer, I need to tell you that I am attending 'Drivers Education' weekend at the end of April. I get LEARN how to drive fast and not have to worry about the FIVE-OH cappin' me for going 120 down the Tollway. (sorry boss, you understand, right?) That weekend will be chock full of pure excitement and adrenaline and pretty much the highlight of my year.

I have found a new hobby. I think I can dig this 'fast car' business?

Quote of the Week

Quote of the Week from my cousin Brett regarding being a Dad:

"Being a dad is great.  Everyday you actually love your kid more.  It really puts in perspective how much your parents loved you.  Next time you see Paul give him a big hug b/c he loves you in a way that you cannot imagine."
                                                                
                                                                                  -Brett Starr

C'est La Vie

.

They eat all the doggoned bread in the world and they still maintain that willowy figure. They smoke like 'The Royal Scot' that dipped through London. They are also jealous of we Americans because of our power, wealth and consumption. AND they wear those berets.

But the one thing I do agree with that lets me hold hands with something French is the saying "C'est La Vie" which means, "That's life!"; or "Such is life!" It is sometimes used as an expression to say that life is harsh but that one must accept it. You might think, "well aren't you the little Jacques Cousteau!" No, not really....he was a good example, though.

I have learned within the past few years that whatever is going to happen, is gonna happen. The best thing to do in certain situations is to simply let things go. Why dwell upon something that you may not be able to change simply because it aggravates the mess out of you? You'll notice how much more calm and collective you'll remain during times.

Watch what I say though, you have control over your life, you just need to be awake to make the decisions. I feel like my path of life and choices I've made have taken me where I am for a reason. But make that decision and just let it happen!